


The New Year

by labeledbones



Category: The Office (US)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-08
Updated: 2013-01-08
Packaged: 2017-11-24 03:26:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/629845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/labeledbones/pseuds/labeledbones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"12:04 AM on New Year's Day and he's standing in his kitchen listening, or just failing to try not to listen, to her on the phone." Erin and Pete celebrate New Year's Eve together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The New Year

12:04 AM on New Year's Day and he's standing in his kitchen listening, or just failing to try not to listen, to her on the phone. He is holding onto the edge of the counter with both hands. Holding on because everything has been oddly off balance lately, everything seems a little bit crooked, slanted. He's starting to realize this is why you fall in love. Why you don't just walk into it or slide into it. He feels unsteady, bound to stumble at any moment. 

He can still see her face in the glow of the television as she grinned watching the countdown. Her always cheerful voice yelling the numbers along with everyone in Times Square. How he'd found himself yelling along with her, infected by her enthusiasm. He can still feel the weight of her arms around him at midnight. And then her phone rang. He can still see the way she'd frowned just a little before answering. 

Out in the living room, she keeps saying, "I love-" and then stopping. Bad signal, bad boyfriend. He doesn't know. He just knows she loves, she loves, she loves. 

He runs water in the sink just for a noise other than her voice and his own pulse. He turns it on hot and strong, watching it splash up onto the counter. He waits twenty seconds and turns it off. He hears her saying, "Andy- Andy, I can't-" He turns the water back on and just lets it run.

Earlier she'd been drinking champagne and smiling at him, telling him how she could feel the bubbles in her bones, the tip of her nose, her fingers and then, as if to prove her point, she'd touched her index fingers to the corners of his mouth, laughed and said, "You smile all the time." He'd smiled even wider and nudged her with his shoulder and said, "Yeah, you should talk," and she'd taken another gulp of champagne and looked away, pursing her lips in a stubborn, futile effort not to smile. 

Now he's staring staight ahead at the cabinet over the sink, thinking about her mouth in that moment, the flush of her cheeks, and he can hear her talking low, her tone dulled. He doesn't hear those bubbles anywhere. She is saying, "Okay, yeah, okay." She is saying, "When do you think you'll be back?" She is saying, "I miss you." And then she's not saying anything. He holds his breath and waits.

After a minute that feels more like ten, she walks in from the living room and stands in the doorway. He hadn't bothered to turn any lights on when he'd come in so she exists as just a backlit shadow for a second before she ventures further into the room. Her face isn't sad so much as resigned, unsurprised, tired. She shrugs her shoulders and attemps a laugh, but it falters before it even gets past her lips. He doesn't say anything, just watches her as she leans against the counter. He has plenty of things he could say, things he desperately wants to say, but he knows better than to say them out loud. 

Somewhere out in the street, firecrackers are being set off. A group of drunk revelers cheering as if they missed midnight the first time. Amid the popping and the noisemakers and the loud echoing laughter, she moves wordlessly to him. She slips her arms around his waist, her hands locking together at his hip. She lays her head on his shoulder and lets her weight settle against him. His mind freezes up but somehow, almost as if on instinct, his arms know that they're supposed to go around her.

They stay just like that, quietly holding onto each other in his dark kitchen while outside the street is lit up and loud with the start of the new year.


End file.
